Nickelback This Means War
by EvilNickelbackObsessedTechy
Summary: A battle you know you are going to lose... a short story based around "This Means War" by Nickelback from their Here and Now album


**Disclaimer: I do not own Nickelback or any of the song lyrics**

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You mentally prepare yourself for the battle ahead, your favourite song going around in your head in an attempt to focus and calm yourself

_"Climb into the ring for a battle that you can't win_

_Swing as hard as you can swing, it will still mean nothing"_

You knew the second the words were out of your mouth that you made a mistake, agreeing to a fight with the bikers from next door was stupid. But you wanted to look tough in front of your girlfriend, no, ex-girlfriend, she dumped you right after the bikers walked away. Calling you a stupid bastard and shouting something about learning how to write a will.

_"Should've seen it coming_

_It had to happen sometime_

_But you went and brought a knife_

_To an all out gun fight"_

You guess this is it. The time has come to either kill or be killed. You strap your favourite knife to your leg and walk out of your house to the street to face the battle. Although you hope you will never actually have to pull out the knife

_"And the only thing to save_

_Is the banner that you wave_

_To be wrapped around your grave"_

"Well shit…" you think as you see the crowd lining the pathways and the bikers blocking the road on either side. In the middle is the toughest, strongest and meanest looking one out of the whole lot. You just remember now that you didn't specify which biker you would go up against. "That was stupid…" you think again. Breathing slowly and calmly you step onto the street and look into the biker's eyes without backing down.

_"You've gone too far_

_(Get up, get up)_

_Who do you think you are_

_(Get up so we can finish this)"_

The biker is the first to make a move, lurching forward with his right fist aiming for your nose. You duck and punch the biker in the stomach, your weak hands meeting seemingly rock hard flesh and you can feel your knuckles crack from the impact. Quickly ducking out of the way, you take a moment to assess you knuckles, no damage done. The biker quickly takes advantage of you distraction to punch you across the jaw. You fall to your knees from the sudden pain that hits and wipe away the blood trickling down your chin

_Is this what you came for_

_(Get up, get up)_

_Well this means war_

_(Get up so we can finish this)_

You hear the crowd cheering, not for you though, for the biker who is now advancing towards you with a stupid grin on his face. Your fist thought is that you have to wipe it off, preferably with something sharp but you are distracted from your thoughts as he pulls you up by the collar of your T-shirt and punches you three times in the stomach.

_"Say anything you want_

_But talk will get you nowhere_

_The only thing you've brought was psychological warfare"_

The biker drops you and you cry out with pain, crumpling to the ground you start to whimper for him to stop hitting you. The crowd laughs at you and how weak you are, the biker stands over you, defying you to get back up and continue being humiliated.

_"Well there's no getting out_

_And now you got to wonder_

_Who will dig you out when you're six feet under"_

There is no way out of this… well… there are two options… one is more likely. The first option would be to get back up and defeat the biker, the other option is to stay crumpled on the floor and get beaten to death. The first option is nearly impossible; you know that you are far too weak to beat the biker. Only a miracle would allow you to even have a tiny chance of beating him, as if to confirm your thoughts, the biker starts kicking you in the stomach, calling you a lazy sod and entertaining the crowd with jokes and more kicks.

_"And the only thing to save_

_Is the banner that you wave_

_To be wrapped around your grave"_

You now understand what your ex-girlfriend meant when she said that you needed to learn how to write a will. You are going to die. Of that you are certain. A horrible way to die really. The biker gives up on his lame jokes and picks you up by the back of your T-shirt. With his other hand he repeatedly smashes his fist into every inch of your body. The hard, cold rings on his fingers cut into the exposed skin on your arms, face and neck. The biker then uses his strength to throw you away like a rag doll. You hit the tarmac and smack your head on the gutter of the street.

_"You've gone too far_

_(Get up, get up)_

_Who do you think you are_

_(Get up so we can finish this"_

An immense pain splits through your head; you blindly reach up to touch your right temple. Your fingers trail through something sticky and you can see red on those fingers as your hand flops back down.

_"Is this what you came for_

_(Get up, get up)_

_Well this means war_

_(Get up so we can finish this)"_

The biker is there, once again, towering over you and kneeling down to punch you until your whole body is screaming in agony. You let out scream after scream, begging the biker to stop but he only laughs and the crowd laugh along with him. You blindly reach down to where the knife is strapped but the biker, with one hand holds your wrist back and with the other grabs the knife and examines it.

_"And the only thing to save_

_Is the banner that you wave_

_To be wrapped around your grave"_

The biker holds the knife close to your eyes, so close you can dimly see your reflection in it. The crowd cheers, begging the biker to kill you. You don't doubt for a second that he can or will. The biker slowly takes the knife and runs it slowly down both of your arms before scratching your legs with it

_"You've gone too far_

_(Get up, get up)_

_Who do you think you are_

_(Get up so we can finish this)_

_Is this what you came for_

_(Get up, get up)"_

Your hearing fades along with your vision, you know that there is no one to help you and you start to cry. You cry from the pain, humiliation and the feeling of being alone. The biker leans back on his heals before getting up, delivering one last kick to your stomach before holding the knife up above you, the blade pointing straight down.

_"Well this means war_

_(Get up so we can finish this"_

The last thing you remember was the biker's evil smirk, the sunlight bouncing off the knife as it headed straight towards your side, the excruciating pain that came with the feeling of the knife embedding itself between two ribs and the feeling losing all grip on reality and, in turn, life.

_"Well this means war"_

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**Authors End Note: Thank you for reading! reviews are always welcome, just please be nice about it :)**


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